Details about the month-long writing kick-in-the-pants here.
I’ve been a crabby patty lately. Lingering sinus infection, work woes, racist jerks, bills. This being a grown-up is for the birds sometimes. Luckily, writing keeps me somewhat sane. Or at least helps me channel the overwhelming desire to give everyone who gets on my nerves the finger.
So last week’s Writer Recharge goals included writing every day, posting twice on the blog, and hitting 50,000 words on the WIP. The first two I knocked out of the park, the third…well, not so much. I so wanted to finish over the weekend but it just wasn’t to be. But I’m very close. I just have to keep reminding myself that editing comes later. I’m really slowing things down by agonizing over every word during the drafting stage.
This Week’s Goals
- Write every day
- Maintain a positive attitude about this writing business
- Finish WIP. Type THE END. Commence muppet flail
And because it doesn’t seem fair to introduce you to Tate’s POV and not Leah’s, here you go.
Tate’s cheeks redden. It’s just like me to wreck our last time. Clothes, now. On the floor. Beneath the blanket. Under the bed. I take everything into the bathroom. When I come out, Tate’s dressed and sitting at his desk, looking as close to angry as I’ve ever seen.
“Saying I love you ruins it?”
“You don’t mean it. People say all kinds of shit after they have sex.”
“Don’t tell me what I mean.” He pushes his glasses up to wipe his eyes. This is worse than angry. That I even recognize he’s hurt means we’re closer than I ever wanted us to be.
I step into my flip-flops. “There’s no way you love me. You barely know me.”
“I know you better than anyone. And I still love you.”
“Guys say that to make girls do it. To keep them doing it.”
He shakes his head. “I’m not that guy.”
“It doesn’t matter. This has to stop.”